


Euphony

by orphan_account



Series: Boss [11]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Arguing, Awkward Conversations, Boss/Employee Relationship, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fights, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Sex, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eu·pho·ny<br/>ˈyo͞ofənē<br/>noun<br/>the quality of being pleasing to the ear, especially through a harmonious combination of words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Euphony

**Author's Note:**

> This is so long but I do hope you guys find it worth it. I'm really nervous and would love to know if you guys think this was a good way to go!

Your fingers are restless, tapping against the steering wheel as you drive towards Chilton's house. He had given you directions as well as a description of his property: A big lawn, a long driveway, a big white house. You didn't know what to expect but you imagined it to be cluttered and luxurious like his office with lots of leather and antiques. You prepared yourself to feel claustrophobic as soon as you knocked on the door. 

You had refused to call him to set up a time and place for where you would have your talk and instead communicated through texts. You didn't want to actually speak to him before then. The two of you agreed that you needed to talk somewhere private and the prospect of having him enter your home made you far too uncomfortable so you agreed, after a lot of initial hesitation, to go over to his house on Sunday at 6pm. You were nervous to see him, but you had been practicing looking cold in the mirror. You didn't want him to think he could manipulate you and you didn't want him to be under the impression that you would just melt under his intimidating glares. 

He must be furious with you. Now that two weeks had gone and he had finally gotten what he had wanted - time with you - it was completely plausible that he would be back to being heartless like before. But you didn't want to be scared of him. It had overwhelmed you for about a day and a half that you were going to be alone with him in his house, but you reasoned with yourself. You are not going to let him touch you if you don't want him to (and you don't), and you are not going to let him blackmail you (in a boss/employee scandal, surely the boss would be in a worse position), and if he fires you, well, you are a great worker and well-experienced so finding a new job shouldn't be a problem. Logically, you have nothing to worry about. 

But you can't help but worry. This whole situation was terrifying and awkward and messy. The anxiety accompanying knowing you have to meet up with him like this alone was enough to make you want to scream, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. Just after noon on Sunday, you left your home in a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt, which you wore with sneakers and an oversized jacket to protect you from the cool October air. You wanted to make it clear to Chilton that this was not important to you and so you wouldn't dress up for him. With barely any makeup on and your hair down and uncombed, you drove to his house. 

You wanted him to have a disadvantage for once. You wanted him to be caught off guard and not have time to prepare. When you arrive at his house, you stare in awe for a moment at the beautiful home in front of you. It was large and modern and absolutely breathtaking. Taking a moment to steady your breathing and heart rate in your car, you do your best to put of a neutral impression before getting out and walking to the door.

Chilton opens the door about a minute after you knock. He wears a pair of worn-out jeans and an old grey sweater and his hair is messy. He looks surprised to see you standing in front of him, even though he tries hard to keep his composure. 

Your name rolls off his tongue before he says anything else. "I wasn't expecting you until…" he pauses to look at the watch on his wrist, "another five hours."

"I know," you say flatly, walking past him and into the house. You slip your jacket off your shoulders and hold it out to him.

Chilton looks almost shocked at the way you are behaving, but you are steadfast in your resolve to be cold towards him, to treat him as he always treated you. He takes your jacket and hangs it in the almost bare coat closet before leading you farther into his home. "Do you want something to drink?" he asks. "I have both tea and coffee."

"No, thank you," you say. 

He clears his throat. "Okay, uh," he says awkwardly. "Come on in, then."

You look around his home as he leads you to his living room. It's bright and open and mainly black and white. It is not at all what you had expected and you find yourself wondering which Chilton is the real Chilton: the one with the intimidating, cluttered office or the one with the modern, welcoming home. You sit on the end of his black sofa and he sits beside you, thankfully not too close, and leans his cane against the space between you two. You sit and keep your eyes wandering around the living room slowly. You are struggling to keep your breathing steady and your demeanour calm, but the fact that he can't stop fidgeting is helpful in boosting your confidence.

"I'm really sorry that I don't have anything out for you," he says after a moment. "I thought you would be coming at 6 tonight, like we had agreed."

"It's just a talk, Dr. Chilton," you mutter, facing forward and not looking at him as you speak. "You don't need to prepare anything for me."

"Is that why you came early?" He asks. "To make sure I didn't do anything special?"

"Yes," you say quickly. It wasn't true, but you want to have the power for once and Chilton seems to just be letting you have it. 

"So you just assumed that I would do something for you?" He asks, though it sounded more like a statement.

"What it a correct assumption?" You ask.

After a brief pause, he speaks. "Yes," he says, moving closer to you on the couch and trying to catch your eye. "It was."

You take a breath. "It's not a date or anything of the sort," you say simply. "There is no need to do anything for me."

"I know that, but—”

"What do you want?" You ask suddenly, turning to him.

Chilton blinks, slightly taken aback by your change in tone. "What do you mean?" he asks.  

"Well, you've been trying to contact me for more than two weeks now. I figured you had something you wanted to say to me," you state. 

"Well, yea," he mumbles.

Despite how unhappy you are about this entire situation, you can't help but feel a little smug about finally being able to make him feel vulnerable. You do wonder, however, if it's all an act. Maybe he's just trying to play some sort of sympathy card. 

After a short but uncomfortable pause, he speaks. "I just feel like we have to talk about our relationship," he says quietly.

It takes an enormous amount of willpower for you to not laugh out loud. "Relationship?!" You repeat, the disbelief written clearly across your face.

“Whatever it is between us,” he corrects himself.

You huff and look away from him. “I don't think there's much to discuss, Dr. Chilton,” you grumble.

“Of course there is,” he insists. “After everything that has happened—”

“But nothing happened,” you snap before you can help yourself. “Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway,” you add with a lowered voice.

“If that were true, you wouldn't have been ignoring my messages,” Chilton counters.

You are starting to hear the growing agitation in his voice. “I've been busy,” you say nonchalantly. Maybe it would be good to rile him up. Maybe then, he’ll start saying what he’s actually thinking instead of beating around the bush like this.

“No, you're making excuses,” he says.

“So what if I am?” you say, raising your voice and turning to him again. “What are you going to do? Blackmail me into fucking you? Because I'd rather if you just fire me and get it over with like you did with Frank.”

Your anger provokes his. “I don't have to justify my decisions to you,” he asserted.

“Then I don't have to justify mine,” you retort.

“I agree with you,” he says. “But I'm not asking you to justify your decisions to me, I'm asking you what those decisions are.” 

You let out a sigh of frustration. “Listen, Dr. Chilton—”

“Will you stop calling me that?!” He yells out suddenly, causing you to jump. “Just say Frederick for fuck's sake!”

“No,” you reply with force.

“Why not!?”

“Because that implies that this is more than it is!” You yell back at him.

“And what is it exactly?” He asks, matching your tone and volume. “I sure as hell don't know and it's really hard to figure it out when you refuse to talk to me like a normal fucking human!”

You stand up and take steps away from the sofa. You don’t like being so close to him while you’re fighting like this. It’s best to keep some distance. “We never talked about it because we were both very clear on where we stood.” You say heavily, your back turned to him.

“Enlighten me,” said Chilton, standing up as well but not approaching you. “Where did we stand?” he asks.

You turn to face him. The anger that you didn’t know you felt just seems to flow out of you. “I don't mean anything to you!” you snarled. “You like to use sex as an outlet and I was always just there and that was _it_. That was _all_ there was between us.”

“That's not true.”

“Yes it is!”

“Maybe at first,” he cries, “but things changed!”

“Well, I didn't want them to change!” you say, suddenly screaming.

“Why not?”

“I was fine with what we had!”

Chilton looks at you for a moment before saying anything. When he speaks, his voice is back to normal volume, but still firm. “You look like you're lying when you say that,” he says.

You clench your teeth as you stare at him. You have to ball your hands into fists to keep from shaking. You hadn’t known that you had held this much resentment towards the doctor, but now that it was out, there was no going back. All you could do was try to collect yourself. “I need some water,” you mutter instead of answering him.

You watch Chilton draw a deep breath and exhale slowly before gesturing to you with his head to follow him. He grabs his cane and leads you into the kitchen, where he pours filtered water into a tall glass for you. You stand in front of the island, turned away from him as you drink. The cold water soothes the scratch in your throat that had started to appear because of all the yelling you were doing.

At the back of your mind, you wonder if Chilton had replaced all the surfaces in his kitchen after he was framed for being the Chesapeake Ripper. If they had been this same colour white before, there was absolutely no way he could have gotten the bloodstains out. You almost want to mention it to him, just to make him suffer, but he speaks before you ponder too long on it.

“So you want to end this?”

You turn to him and lean against the island, mimicking his stance of leaning against the counter. You twirl the water in your glass as he fiddles with his cane. “I thought that was obvious,” you mutter before taking another sip.

“You know, it would have been much easier if you just came up to me and told me that in the first place,” he says. His voice was calm and low, but you can hear the bitterness.

“I thought you were smart enough to realize after I ignored your 20th phone call,” you say.

“I wanted to talk,” he states.

You finish the water and walk over to the sink. “And now we're talking and it's not really going that well, is it?” you say as you put the glass in the sink.

“At least I'm finding out more about you,” Chilton says with a shrug.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Is that what you wanted out of this?” you ask. This wasn’t what you had expected.

“Partially.”

You sigh, exasperated. “What would you like to know?”

He looks at you a moment from his spot, so far away from you before approaching. “What do you want from me?”

Your heart starts beating faster as he nears you but you will yourself not to step back. You don’t want him to think you are weak. “I don't want anything.”

“You must want something,” he says, stopping a foot away from you.

“No,” you argue, your voice low and steady. “I want _nothing_ from you.”

Something changes in Chilton’s expression, almost as if some sort of mask fell off to reveal his true emotions. The expressions he had shown thus far seem completely neutral compared to the way he looks now, even though it’s a subtle change. His jaw goes slack, the muscles of his cheeks relaxing and the frown lines falling to show a look of complete sadness mixed with hurt and devastation. It almost sways you to take back what you said, but you don’t.

“But why?” he asks.

You let out a short laugh of disbelief. “‘Why?’ You seriously are asking me that!?”

Chilton doesn’t reply, just looks at you with that same hurt look on his face. You turn away from him to face out the window over his sink. You put your hands on the counter, your fingers gripping onto the walls of the sink’s bowl. It is a moment before he speaks again.

“I know what everyone is saying about you. About us,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “I know you must hate me after all of this.”

You bow your head and sigh. “I don’t hate you,” you whisper.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I don't,” you repeat. “I just didn't want things to get screwed up the way they did.”

Chilton cocks his head to one side. “Who screwed them up?” he asks.

Was he actually this clueless?! “ _You did_!” You cry. “That afternoon in your fucking office!”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “You're the one who initiated that—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“But you're the one who kissed me!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You turn to him fully. “How about you stop pretending that that kiss meant nothing,” you say forcefully. “What changed?”

Chilton has trouble meeting your intense glare. It is one thing to just see you the way you look now, which is so different than the well-put-together businesswoman he has become so accustomed to seeing, but he’s also never seen you behave like this in front of him: so unadulterated and vocal and forceful. You’re not holding back, you’re not modifying yourself or your personality for his benefit. It’s jarring but at the same time comforting because at least now, you are letting yourself be you. Maybe now you will be able to see him as more than… well, whatever you see him as.

He looks at you, troubled. He thinks back to the fear that had overcome and consumed him so completely when he found out that you had been attacked. His heart beats faster at the thought and it almost makes him cringe. His eyes plead with you and he would like nothing more than to pull you to him and hold you tight but his muscles don’t move no matter how much he tells them to.  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he says finally, softly.

You look up at him. “Well, couldn’t you just find someone else?” you ask accusingly.

His eyes widen at the implications of what you just said. Find someone new?! As in someone to replace you? “No! I couldn’t!” He says, horrified and furious at the same time.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not just some random person and you’re not _nothing_!” Chilton yells suddenly, startling you as his voice getting louder and louder with each syllable. “You’re _someone_ , you’ve always been someone and you _mean something_ to me! Don’t you understand that?”

You take a step back, shaking your head.

“You must know that I care about you!”

“No…”

“How could you not get it?” He screams. “I think you're amazing and wonderful and I really fucking care about you and I want you to be safe and healthy and happy! After everything that we went through, how is it really that surprising to you that I feel this way?”

You want to cower, you want to run away, but you stay standing where you are. You force yourself to keep looking at the man in front of you, to not break eye contact, as he stares at you like you are completely blind to anything put in front of you. Your head begins to pound as your heart races against your ribcage. A heaviness spreads throughout your entire body, causing you to feel weak and vulnerable. You stare back at Chilton, furious and miserable. The possibility that he may care for you had terrified you so much that you had refused to even consider it at all. That he could say that he has feelings for you, knowing very well all the things he put you through and the way he treated you, made you feel like shit. You take a quivering breath.

“You never even looked at me until you found me in the solitary confinement room,” you say slowly, quietly. “You walked by me every single day but you still didn't even know I was the receptionist.” Your voice is shaking but you do not care. “You used me for your own selfish pleasure without any consideration for how I felt or what I wanted and you _never stopped_ using me. You cursed at me, demeaned me, fucked me until I broke and then picked up all the pieces just to use me again. Is that how you show someone that you care?”

Chilton feels the colour drain from his face as he listens to you speak. His chest feels tight and he has trouble breathing. “I… I thought you—”

“There's a difference,” you interrupt, already knowing what he wanted to say, “between being dominated in the bedroom and being nothing but a piece of meat to the person you are intimate with.”

He shakes his head ever so slightly in utter despair and disbelief. “I didn't know you felt that way…” he whispers, barely audible.

“How could you?” You say coldly. “You never asked.”

Chilton takes a small step towards you, your name spilling from his lips so softly, but you are unfazed. You feel tears burning the insides of your eyelids and your bottom lip begins to quiver. “You ruin me every time you touch me,” you say, your voice bleak. “What did you expect?”

He stares at you, gaping and gawking as he reaches for you. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t,” you say forcefully, taking a step back. “Just… don’t.”

He freezes, but continues to look at you pleadingly. “Please,” he says. “I don’t feel like that anymore. I used to, and I admit that was awful of me, but…” he sighs, looking you in desperation, wanting to hold you so badly but afraid to scare you away completely. “But I want you.”

Your gaze doesn’t soften under his confession. If anything, it hardens. You blink the moisture away from your eyes and clench your teeth to keep your lips still as you speak. “You seem like a person that wants a lot of things, Frederick,” you say, your voice back to sounding neutral and cold. “I’m sorry if you don’t get it this time.”

He doesn’t have time to respond as you turn away from him and walk towards the foyer. You had said all you had wanted to say and all that you didn’t know that you needed to say. You can hear him calling out to you as you turn into the entrance and grab your jacket from the coat closet. Chilton appears as you are putting it on.

“How can you just leave it like this?” he asks, his voice pleading.

“There’s nothing else to talk about,” you say simply as you fix the lapels of your jacket.

“There is plenty left to say and you know it.” He argues, approaching you.

“Then say it!” You say suddenly, loudly. You’ve had enough of Chilton and of his house and of this talk and you want to leave, but he doesn’t answer you. “Whatever you want to say to me,” you add when he stays silent, “Just let me know.”

He stares at you from just three feet away. When he speaks, he’s voice is low, steady, and heavy. “You already know how I feel,” he says.

“No, I don’t,” you countered. “You haven’t told me, so tell me.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares, and this infuriates you. The rage that had been bubbling up inside of you since all this started finally overtakes you completely lose yourself in your anger. “ _TELL ME!_ ” You scream, but the words have barely left your mouth before Chilton grabs your face roughly with both hands, his cane clattering to the ground, and suddenly his lips are crushing yours. He pours into the kiss what he hasn’t been able to say, his lips forcing your mouth to open and close with his.

You let out a squeal of surprise, which is muffled against his mouth, but you kiss him back anyway, clutching at his sweater and pulling him closer to you. He groans into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his torso, your fingers digging into his back so that you can press yourself to him as much as possible. Your mind screams at you to pull back, to push him away, but you need this. You never dreamed that you would need this, but you do.

You groan as Chilton knots his fingers in your hair to hold your head in place as his tongue explores your mouth. His movements are desperate and aggressive and all tongue and teeth, but you match that aggression easily, finally feeling in control in front of him as your hands move across his chest. He drops his hands to your waist, clutching you tightly as he turns you and pushes you roughly against the wall. You gasp in pain as your back and head slam against the hard surface, but his lips are on you again in a second and you forget the sting and kiss him.

You clutch his hair in tight handfuls and bite his lip as he moans and pushes one of his thighs between your legs. You moan as his skin rubs against your core but this is all about being as close to you as possible. Chilton presses his body so tight against yours that you feel like your ribs will break between him and the wall. Your lungs feel restricted as he presses his chest so heavily against your breasts. It’s so overwhelming and intoxicating all at once that when he speaks, you are unsure for a moment of whether he actually said what he said or if you just dreamed it.

“I love you,” he gasps against your mouth between kisses. His fingers dig almost painfully into your waist and you whimper. You should pull away. You know you should pull away. This has gone much too far and has gotten far too intense. But _fuck_ , he tastes amazing. The desperation, the aggression, the hands holding on so tightly all have you feeling lightheaded and you don’t ever want to stop.

But…you must.

With some difficulty, you move your hands to his chest and push him away from you. He resists, wanting to stay touching you, wanting to keep kissing you, but eventually succumbs. The two of you stand with your foreheads touching. Your breaths are heavy against each other’s skin as the two of you pant. You close your eyes and swallow, completely aware of Chilton’s heart hammering against his chest because you can feel it under your palms.

“You don’t know me, Frederick,” you finally whisper.

“Yes, I do,” he whispers back at you.

“You don't know anything about me,” you continue, shaking your head ever so slightly.

“No…”

“And I don't know anything about you.”

“No!” he pleads desperately, tightening his grip on your waist.

“Please,” you beg. “I'm sorry but you're still a stranger.” You timidly look up to meet his gaze. “You're still no different to me than you were when all this started.”

Chilton’s face twists into a pained expression. “How can you say that?” he breathes, his voice thick with emotions. “How can you _believe_ it?”

“I'm sorry.” You step out of his grip and turn towards the door.

“Wait,” he says but you keep walking towards the door. “Wait!”

Your hand wraps on the doorknob.

“Will you go out with me?” The words rush out of him at once with hardly a space between each one. It takes you a second to register what he said and when you do, you turn to him.

“What?”

Chilton stares at you, his hair an even bigger mess than before, his sweater bagging at the chest where you had grabbed at it. His shoulders are hunched and his cane is lying forgotten on the floor. “Would you like to go out sometime?” he repeats, his eyes begging, “On a date.”

You narrow your eyes. A date? After all this, the idea seems so… childish. “Are you serious?” you ask.

Chilton shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “That's what people do in order to get to know each other, right?” he says quietly, “Go on dates?”

“Yes…” You say warily.

“So I think it would be a great way for you to get to know me.”

You stare at him, completely unsure of how the meeting ended like this. You are confused to say the least, but for some reason, you consider answering yes.

Because you don’t know him. You hardly know anything about him other than what he’s like in bed and even then, you don’t know what he’s like with someone he is dating. And he claims that he loves you, which is terrifying but it almost makes you want to see if he would still love you if you agreed to see him, if he saw more of you. How much damage could one date do? Could not be any worse than what he’s put you through already. Maybe he won’t be so cold now that feelings are involved.

And the creeping feeling is that maybe you _want_ to say yes. Despite everything, you _have_ enjoyed yourself during your time with him. You have been attracted to Chilton ever since you started working at the hospital and you would have said yes to him in a heartbeat back then.

You hadn’t wanted more, and you hadn’t wanted a relationship. But this is not a long-term commitment. This is one date.

“But what will people say?” You finally say.

Chilton’s expression relaxes as he realizes that you may say yes. “Could it really be worse that what we've already heard?”

 _That’s true._ “But aren't inter-staff relationships discouraged?” you ask.

This makes him laugh gently. “Do you really think that's going to be an issue after everything that has happened?” he asks.

The blood rushes to your face. “But…” you start but trail off.

“What?” He asks, stepping towards you.

“I- I'm just a receptionist,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

A softness overtakes his expression and Chilton looks at you so sweetly that you get butterflies. “No,” he says. “You're so much more.” When you hesitate, he smiles at you reassuringly. “Are you free on Thursday?” He asks.

You raise your gaze to look at him and nod. It was the tiniest movement of your head, but it was enough for Chilton to give you the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. “How does seven o'clock sound?” he asks.

Your lips turn up at the corner ever so slightly but you hide your smile by turning around and opening the door behind you. “Sounds…fine,” you say, tossing Chilton a glance over your shoulder before stepping out and closing the door behind you.

You speed walk to your car, your heart racing. You realize that this may be the biggest mistake you ever make but you are happy with it. You shake your head in disbelief as you pull out of the driveway and head back down the road. The talk went so differently than you had planned, but if you’re honest, you wouldn’t change a thing. The idea of a date with Chilton may be terrifying, but it also feels exhilarating. You thought you hadn’t wanted him, you thought you had wanted nothing to do with him, but that was before you knew he could actually take your feelings into consideration.

You finally got to say what you had wanted to say and he listened. He didn’t blackmail you or threaten you. He had apologized and asked you what you wanted. He told you he loves you.

You almost believe it. _How does seven o’clock sound?_ A smile spreads across your face as you think about it.

It sounds like euphony.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
